


Painfully and With Wonder

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Series: Sugar & Spice Witcher Bingo [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Come Inflation, Communication, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gangbang, Kinbaku, M/M, Make that bottom cry, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Safewords, Sensory Deprivation, Spitroasting, Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo, Triple Penetration, Verbal Humiliation, Wet & Messy, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Wolf Pack, cockslut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Sugar and Spice Witcher BingoPrompt: gangbang
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Other(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Series: Sugar & Spice Witcher Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052879
Comments: 38
Kudos: 253





	Painfully and With Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo, unclear narrator! If you wanna know who it is who gets railed six ways till Sunday here, have a look at the end notes.
> 
> Dedicated to the Witcher Writers group chat, you're the real ones, my darlings.

He's bound, so tightly. No matter how hard he strains against the ropes, he can barely move more than an inch in any direction. There's fabric covering his eyes, plunging him into complete darkness. He can feel his heart beating in his throat.

"Look at you," someone says from behind him, "so pretty for us, presenting you tight arse for us like a dockside whore."

"He does look pretty like that," someone else says, and then there's a finger tracing the ropes binding his calves tightly to his thighs. "All trussed up like a prize pig."

"Let's see if we can make him squeal like one."

All of a sudden there are hands all over him, on his back, stroking over his legs, the curve of his arse. One slides into his hair, another to cup his jaw.

"Open your mouth." A third voice. "I don't have to tell you what will happen if you bite, do I?"

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, as far as he is able with the firm grip on his jaw.

"Good boy." A thumb on his lower lip, and he opens his mouth, even as unease churns inside him. Then the unmistakable shape of a cock pressed between his lips, and he makes a conscious effort to relax his jaw.

Behind him, someone has grabbed hold of both his cheeks, squeezing, fingertips digging hard into the muscle. It hurts, vaguely, and he makes a noise of discomfort around the cock he's currently being fed. "Already complaining? Why am I not surprised." The fingers dig in harder, and he wants to squirm away but he can't, the ropes keep him in place, and for all his efforts he just pushes himself further onto the cock in his mouth.

"Shit, do that again," the owner of said cock moans, and the fingers relax, then dig into his flesh once more, and he whines around the man in front of him.

"Making such beautiful noises and we haven't even begun," the first voice says, and then someone trails the tips of their fingers softly along his spine. "Just imagine the kinds of sounds we'll get out of you once we're all inside of you."

 _Fuck_. No, they can't- _He_ can't- He whines again, and the fingers on his back turn into a palm, gently pressed between his shoulder blades.

"You can do it, I know you can. We'll take our time. You'll look _so good_ with two cocks in that greedy arse of yours."

They do take their time. There's not an inch of his skin left untouched by the time the first finger is pushed into him, and he is hyper aware of everything. Knuckles brushed along his flank have him panting. A hand tightly gripping his hair makes his eyes roll back in his head. It's too much, already, and there's only one finger in him.

The man in front of him pulls away after a while, dragging the wet length of his cock over his cheek. He chases after it, mouth open and searching, and the men laugh.

"Knew those protests were for show," the second voice says. That man is behind him, is the one fingering him open, and he can't stop himself from whining. He can't stop his hips from rocking back, either, even if it's just an inch, and the man huffs. "Did you forget the rules, bitch? You get what we give you."

The finger disappears, and he whines again. It's a pitiful sound. "Please," he breathes, but there's nothing but silence for a long time. It makes his skin crawl with anticipation.

He jumps when oil drizzles over his arse, between his cheeks, and then, without warning, there are _three_ fingers pushing at his entrance. He yelps as they breach him. "You wanted more, didn't you?" They press into him, unrelenting, and he gasps and whimpers and squirms, the stretch far too much all at once. "Hold still, you'll only hurt yourself."

He's shaking all over with the effort to obey, to keep still, but it's so much, he's not stretched nearly enough for this and it's this close to going from uncomfortable to painful. "Please, I can't, it's-"

Hands on his back, in his hair, stroking gently. The fingers inside him still, but they don't retreat, and he shakes and whimpers as he wills himself to relax. Slowly, he does, the tension in his limbs loosening, and there are appreciative noises all around him.

"There you go," the first voice says quietly, and the simple praise is enough to make him go lax. The fingers sink into him another inch and he moans, shivers. "So good for us," the man says, "so keen to have your greedy holes filled."

" _Yes_ ," he breathes, "please, can I-" He opens his mouth wide, pushes out his tongue, and the man's breath hitches.

"You're just dying for it, aren't you?" He whines again, mouth still open. "Alright, come here." A hand on his chin tips his head back and then there's a cock pushing into his mouth. "Go on," the man says to the one with his fingers inside him, "he'll be good now."

The fingers pull back slightly and there's more oil, and then they push back in, further than before. It's still too much, still skirting the edge of pain, but he concentrates on the cock in his mouth. There are hands in his hair, a thumb gently stroking his temple, and he lets go, closing his eyes behind the blindfold and sinking into the feeling of being used.

He's vaguely aware of knuckles brushing against his rim at some point, and the man before him hums, pleased.

Three fingers soon become four, and the stretch is enough to make his eyes water for a moment. He breathes through it, as best he can with the cock nudging the back of his throat. It's not until another finger, thicker than those already in him, joins the others that he starts trembling again.

"Ssshhh, you're doing great, just breathe," the man before him says, and he does as he's told. It doesn't make it easier, doesn't make it hurt less, but the gentle touch and gentle voice ground him, kindle a pleasant heat in his chest. They make him be able to bear it as another finger nudges at his already so stretched hole, as it pushes inside.

Six fingers inside him now, and if his mouth wasn't occupied he's sure he would be screaming.

"Need to get you nice and loose for us," someone says. He can't make sense of who is speaking anymore, all his thoughts caught up in _fullfullfull_ and _toomuchtoomuch_ as he tries his hardest not to grit his teeth and bite the man before him.

The fingers _move_ , and now he does scream, screams around the cock in his mouth, and the man pulls away. There are palms cradling his cheeks as he screams and whimpers and begs.

"Ssshh, it's alright, you want to be a good boy for us, don't you?" 

He sobs in response, because _yes, of course_ he wants to be good, wants to be a good boy and give them what they want, but it, " _Hurts_ ," and he can't, _he can't-_

One finger retreats, slowly, carefully, and the relief wrenches another sob from his throat. The man before him strokes his cheeks. "There, is that better?" He whines, nods. The blindfold is wet with tears. "Do you need your word?"

The question reaches him as if through a fog. Word? What word?

Fingers shift inside him, and he sucks in a breath. His _word_. "N-no, just-" A thumb caressing his cheekbone. "A break? O-or… slower? Please?"

"Hm, of course. Thank you for telling us." Lips against his, and he sighs into the kiss. The fingers shift again, ever so slightly, and now he moans. While still a lot, still too much, it's starting to feel good, too.

The man keeps kissing him, effectively distracting him, and he relaxes into the sensations, lets the rope hold him up, and after a while he realises that the fingers inside him are moving again, slowly, gently. The realisation slams him back into full awareness, and he groans. The man who kissed him chuckles.

"Feeling better?" He nods, licks his lips. "Can we continue?" He nods again, and the man grasps his chin in a strong grip. Callouses drag against his skin. "Good. We're going to _ruin_ you, pet," he promises darkly, sending a shiver down his back.

" _Please,_ " he says, and the fingers squeeze his chin once more before letting go.

They work him open slowly but unrelentingly, and then he finds himself with eight fingers inside his arse, and a cock back in his mouth, and he's _floating._

"I think he's ready," someone says, and he keens around his mouthful.

 _Yes, yes, I'm ready, fuck me, fuck me, please, fucking_ **_destroy_ ** _me…_

"Trade me," the man who has his cock down his throat says, and someone grumbles behind him. "Oh, do be quiet, don't pretend you don't love being the one responsible for his wrecked voice half the time."

The fingers disappear from his arse, and he whines around the cock in his mouth. He's gaping, he must be, and he's so, so empty-

"Sssh, we got you, boy," someone says behind him, and there's a fresh drizzle of oil over his hole, _inside him_ , and then - finally, _finally_! - the man pushes his cock into him. " _Fuck_ , he's-"

"Hm, I can see that," the man whose cock he had been sucking murmurs. "You'll be walking funny for a week, pet," he says, stroking a hand over his back as the man behind him bottoms out after just three slow thrusts. He can't stop the moan that rips free at the feeling of hips pushing against his.

"Gods, he's never been this open. You have the worst ideas," the man in his arse says, and the other chuckles.

"I assume that by worst you mean best," he replies, and then there's the unmistakable sound of kissing. Heat surges through him, and he clenches weakly around the cock buried inside him. The men part, breathing heavily, and a hand squeezes his arse. "Do you want to continue, pet? You can still use your word, we won't be angry."

"No, fuck me, please, I need it-"

A cock against his lips, and he opens wide reflexively. The man snickers but doesn't give him his cock. "Hungry bitch, can't believe we never tried this before."

"That's because you lack imagination," the man not currently inside him says good-naturedly. Then he must lean down, because he can feel breath against his cheek. "We're going to fill you so good, pet, pump you full of us until you can't take any more. I want to see if we can make you swell with us."

Fuck. _Fuck, yes_. "Please," he whimpers, and there's movement behind him.

Legs straddle him and something nudges at his rim, another cock, and he breathes and wills himself to relax.

He's still not ready.

The initial breach is, again, too much, and he makes a high keening noise he didn't think his throat was even capable of producing. But he also didn't think he could take two cocks in his arse, so it's truly a night of self-discovery.

The man pushing into him is talking, mumbling breathless praise as he rocks into him ever so slowly, and he's shaking, he's sweating, it's so good, hurts _just right_ , and when the man is as deep as he can go, he moans, loud and helpless. "So good for us, pet," the man gasps, "fuck, feel so fucking perfect."

He whines again, and then he rocks back as far as he can. " _Please_ ," he gasps, and they groan and start to move.

His breath catches in his throat. It's unlike anything he has ever experienced, a truly sublime feeling that has his eyes rolling back in his skull. He's vaguely aware of a hand on his jaw, a thumb pressing between his lips followed by a cock. "Come here, bitch, can't keep this gorgeous mouth empty, can we?"

It all blurs after that. All he knows is being full, being moved, the feeling of hands stroking and gripping and gentling him, their cocks moving inside him ruthlessly, and it's so good he's losing his mind. There's a gasp behind him, and the man straddling him picks up the pace, bows over his back as he holds on to the rope wound around his arms.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he moans against his ear, and he shivers. He wants to beg for it, wants the man's come as deep inside him as it will go, but his mouth, his throat is full, and all that comes out is a gurgle. "You're so good, so very good, the best, I don't deserve you," he pants, and he can't help it, he tightens around their cocks as he shakes apart, his own cock spurting over the bench he's tied to. "Yes, _fuck_ , so fucking tight even with two cocks up your arse, our perfect bitch," and then the man's hips stutter and if he wasn't going insane with overwhelming pleasure he's sure he could feel the man's release inside him.

He loses time after that. He's aware that they keep fucking him, keep _filling_ him, but he's floating again, his head feeling like it's been stuffed with wool. His own orgasms are sharp pin pricks of pleasure that burst through the haze from time to time, and he can only really judge the passage of it from the way his voice disappears as he screams himself hoarse, speared open on two cocks again.

At some point there are gentle hands cupping his cheeks again, a soft voice speaking to him, and it takes so much effort to focus on the words. "There you are," the man says, a smile in his tone. "Are you alright, love?"

He hums; even that scratches at his throat.

"Think you can take one last round?"

He tries to center himself, tries to listen to what his body is telling him, but he's cock stupid and his head feels like it's barely attached to his shoulders any more. All he can manage is another hum.

"Hm, that's alright, my love, you've been so perfect for us. We love you so much," the man says, stroking his cheek softly. He can hardly focus any longer; everything feels like the most delicious form of too much, and he drifts away, his head filled with molasses as the man hums, so pleased with him. "Sleep, pet, we'll take care of you."

He smiles, and sleeps.

* * *

Geralt wakes up in his bed, his head pillowed on Jaskier's stomach as the bard runs soothing fingers through his hair. He's clean, obviously someone washed him, and he aches deliciously.

"Back with us?" Jaskier's voice is low, just as gentle as his touch, and Geralt hums. "You did so well, my love. Did you have a good time?"

He hums again and presses his face against Jaskier's belly. "Yeah." Fuck, his voice sounds absolutely wrecked.

"I'm glad. So did I, and I'm sure I can speak for your brothers when I say they did as well."

Geralt cracks a smile. "Judging by the way my arse feels, you're right."

Jaskier chuckles. "Next time I'll have your mouth while they fuck you," he says conversationally. He reaches down, runs his thumb over Geralt's bottom lip, and he lets his mouth fall open easily. "Lambert looked like his soul left his body at the sounds you were making around him."

His eyes flutter as he imagines it. Lambert is not much bigger than Jaskier but he _is_ bigger, and if having Eskel and Jaskier at the same time felt this good… A shiver races through him, and Jaskier's smile sharpens.

"Are you thinking about it? About getting split open on _two_ Witcher cocks?"

"Fuck, Jaskier-"

The bard shushes him, his smile softening again. "Calm down, darling, you need to rest. Do you want to come up here?"

Geralt does indeed, and he heaves himself up and into the crook of Jaskier's arm. They settle, and Jaskier kisses his forehead gently.

"I love you so much, darling. We all do." Another kiss. "Sleep. It's been a long day."

Geralt does, lets himself bask in the feeling of Jaskier's arm around him, his skin against his own, the soft puffs of breath against his face. He sleeps, safe in the knowledge that when he wakes, he will be back with the people who love him, and who give him exactly what he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Bottom Geralt rights, bitches.
> 
> This is very vaguely inspired by [this gorgeous art by Thirsty Oppossum](https://twitter.com/ThirstyOpossum/status/1351545462063554561?s=19) which popped up on my Twitter about 15 minutes after I started writing this. This fandom only has one brain cell, folx.
> 
> The title comes from the poem [Habitation](https://poets.org/poem/habitation) by Margaret Atwood.
> 
> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/formerly_as_g?s=09)!


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